You wake up vomiting blood and your boss says you can’t ‘have the day off’ – what would you do?

While we hate to admit it, jobs take up a large percentage of our lives and have such an impact on every part of our identities. Even before we start our career, school and college are our training ground for the working world. We’re taught not to miss days, to always be on time, and to stay in class even when feeling unwell. 

I’m far from the only person to hear anecdotes about young women in exams with a burst appendix they thought was ‘just period pain’. We’re conditioned to minimise our suffering, both mental and physical, to appease those in positions of authority. 

At 26, I’ve had my fair share of jobs – the good, the bad, and the shitty (quite literally, but that’s a story for another day). Carrying around a chronically ill, anxiety-and-depression-riddled body, I’ve learned that the way you are treated in work says a lot more about the company than it does about your ability to “suck it up”. And I’ve been surprised to learn which employers are more genuinely understanding of ailments than others.

I suffer from cyclical vomiting syndrome, a recognised disability in Ireland, which feeds off anxiety and exhaustion. Its flare-ups could mean a week in bed, or the ever-looming risk of hospitalisation. 

While I am under no legal obligation to disclose this information to employers, I often try to make people within the company aware of my situation. I am fully aware of my bodily limits when it comes to jobs, and I am also aware of employers’ legal obligations to those of us in the disabled category. And boy do I have stories running the gamut of reactions to my condition. 

I think the worst working experience I’ve had was with a large luxury shopping chain. I had a really busy few weeks and was scheduled to work a long Saturday shift. On the morning of said shift, I woke up vomiting blood. I was terrified. 

From previous workplaces, I knew that getting in touch as early as possible to let your manager know about a bout of illness was paramount – not that it helped in this instance. While I frantically called doctors for an emergency appointment, the taste of metal ripe in my mouth, my manager let me know that some of my colleagues were on leave and so there was no way I could “have the day off”. This woman was so insistent on me coming in to the shop while actively bleeding from my stomach that the emergency out-of-hours doctor had to write a letter insisting that I stay off work for four days at a minimum, while referring me to the emergency department of University Hospital Limerick. 

After I informed this manager that I was en route to the hospital, she texted to arrange a date for a contract review as my probation period was coming to a close. I was also informed that I had to let another manager know I was calling in sick. I did so as I walked into the hospital. When I explained the situation, I was asked if my manager was OK without any cover – this senior staff member not even thinking to ask how I was. 

As I sat in the crowded UHL A&E with a drip of fluids and anti-emetics hooked to my vein, I tried to process the absurdity of the situation. Then a message was sent to our work group chat, upping my next working hours after illness to an outrageous level so my colleagues could recover from the “inconvenience” I had caused, and I realised I needed to quit.

Around the same time, I was working at a remote desk job with a well-known magazine on an internship. When I let my manager at this workplace know about my illness, she could not have been nicer. She told me she would inform my colleagues I was unwell and advised that could I drop work or write as little as possible for the day if I needed to.

The kindness that I received made it much easier to go to this manager with other issues. When I fell on tougher times and started taking antidepressants with side effects that notoriously take a while to settle into, I felt completely at ease discussing my changing physical capabilities with her. 

While journalism is a tough industry, the compassion I was shown in my first venture into the field solidified that I was making the right career choice and really helped me along my way. You can keep all the fancy workplace social media and connection apps, the workplace wellness seminars and training days, and the ‘be kind’ (but only on the surface) mentality. If having those ‘perks’ means putting myself back into the mindset of a suffering 16-year-old, too scared to tell someone I’m unwell, I’d leave them behind for a business that leads with respect and compassion any day.

If you struggle to advocate for yourself at work, our masterclasses on confidence and communication might help. You can also learn how to recognise the signs of burnout with our masterclass on work-life balance.